


Off to the Side

by yoshizora



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: At the ball, Shamir and Catherine talk about dancing.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97





	Off to the Side

**Author's Note:**

> in all my playthroughs shamir is the only judge who consistently votes for a house that isn't mine so either she's fucking around or she just has diff taste in dancing
> 
> also i just wanted to write them being gay

The ball is a grand affair, like most other events hosted by the academy. This one may be the grandest yet in comparison to the feasts and choirs and odd fighting tournament, and it’s at an occasion such as this that the student body’s noble lineage is most apparent. Most of the students, at least. Catherine is reminded of her own school days, reminiscing off to the side with some other milling knights, a glass of something bubbly held between two fingers to make it seem as though she’s occupied. 

Shamir slips beside her without anyone noticing. “You’re not dressed for the occasion.”

“Neither are you,” Catherine points out, and she hands her drink over for Shamir to sip at. “A true Knight of Seiros must be ready and alert at all times. Even Alois hasn’t shed his armor.”

“I think you’re taking it too seriously.”

Catherine scoffs, and snatches the glass back without spilling a drop. “I don’t wanna hear that from you, of all people.” But the jab is friendly, and she makes a point of bumping her arm against Shamir’s side. “Speaking of Alois— remind me to give him an earful for picking you to be the third judge over me.”

“Who said he asked? Maybe I volunteered myself.” Oh, that scandalized look. Shamir folds her arms and leans back against the wall, scanning the crowd of students. “Kidding. He wouldn’t stop pestering me until I agreed.”

Amongst all the fine clothes and perfect postures, few of the students truly stand out. Catherine admits a slight bias toward her own former house— she recognizes few donning the colors of the Eagles and Deer, save for the house leaders that are talked up so often amongst the faculty and even those who serve the church. Edelgard and Dimitri are creating a swathing path for themselves as they dance, as if the other students are frightened away by the sheer might of their combined presence, and Claude is dragging Byleth onto the dance floor.

“Do you even know how to dance?” Catherine hears herself asking but not really thinking, transfixed by the sight of Ingrid Brandl Galatea tripping over her own feet on her way toward a young woman wearing the colors of the Black Eagles, surrounded by several male students. This year’s Blue Lions sure are something. 

She has to tear her eyes away to make sure Shamir hadn’t slipped away again, as she’s wont to do when Catherine gets a bit too nosey for her liking.

Somehow, she had taken Catherine’s drink again without her noticing and is placidly sipping. She raises a brow, and lowers the glass. 

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Catherine rubs the back of her neck. “Huh. You sound serious.”

“I am serious.”

“I’m not sure if I should be surprised or not.”

“Fòdlan’s style of waltzing is unfamiliar to me,” Shamir says. “To be frank, it’s not my style at all. I learned other types of dance during my years back in Dagda.”

“You never told me about that!” 

“You never asked.”

There’s an odd sort of glint in her eye, and a subtle curl turning her usual frown, as she raises the glass and gently presses the rim to Catherine’s lip. As casual as drawing a bowstring, she tilts it and pours what remains in the glass into her mouth, which Catherine obligingly swallows. Ah. It’s non-alcoholic. A drip of it escapes and makes its way down her chin, but Shamir is quick to catch it with a fingertip, which she brings to her own mouth to taste. It lingers. Both the sweetness on her tongue, and Shamir’s steady gaze. They linger. 

“… You’re being awfully bold tonight, Shamir,” Catherine finally says, grateful that the other knights around them are too busy watching over the students to notice what they’re doing. “I heard you even tried to upset the vote for the White Heron Cup.” 

“I tried. The Black Eagles still won. I liked Leonie’s dance, though. Her movements reminded me of my own.”

“Now you’ve got me all too curious. You’ll show me your dance, won’t you?”

Shamir, now unusually in high spirits, shakes her head. It'd be difficult for anyone else to discern exactly how much of a good mood she's actually in. “Not here. I wouldn’t want to make a scene.”

“In private, then.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

Catherine suddenly feels very, very giddy, and she’s fairly certain that it isn’t because of the drink she’d just had (which she now only just realizes was some sort of apple cider). Emboldened by their complete lack of presence in the event, she slips an arm around Shamir’s waist, absolutely _delighted_ when Shamir doesn’t try to pull herself away. Maybe there was something in the cider after all. Hopefully there wasn’t, and it’s merely the moment capturing them both in its intoxicating snare. How often does something like this happen, anyway? 

“We could get out of here right now,” she murmurs close to Shamir’s ear, dark hair tickling her nose. “Just the two of us.”

Shamir doesn’t even give a proper response; she simply hands off the empty glass to someone who happens to be walking by, ignores their bewilderment, and tugs Catherine along by the hand.

**Author's Note:**

> catherine is expecting something sexy but shamir is actually a pro at capoeira-style dancing and kicks her in the face (but catherine still thinks that's sexy)


End file.
